It's been a long time since I've posted on this site...
My cat Bitey got very sick at the end of February 2006. His back legs gave out, and after multiple trips to multiple vets, it was determined that he had a tumor inside of his spine. My beloved cat was given four months to live.
Bitey could no longer walk on his back legs. He dragged himself around using his front paws. He could no longer urinate on his own. I learned, and then taught my boyfriend how to express his bladder.
He was, despite his handicap, still very happy. He endured long trip to the vet for kitty chemo, the indignity of assisted peeing, and the pitying stares of the other neighborhood kitties.
We endured took on the bill for Bitey's care...which cracked 10,000 dollars, 5,400 of which I still have sitting on a no-interest credit card.
Four months came and went. And still Bitey was chugging along, pulling himself across the floor, thunking himself down the steps into the garden, lying in the sun, chasing bugs with his eyes, if not with his whole body.
Four more months came and went. We stopped kitty chemo, realizing it was bankrupting us without demonstrable effect. We learned to run Bitey around the yard holding his tail in our hands so he could run fast on his freakishly strong front two legs. We all slept in the bed together, Bitey snuggled under the blankets, burrowing deeper into the space between his two parents.
Life became normal, to the point where Bitey updates ceased to be necessary. There was a sense of routine: Wakeup, help Bitey off the bed. Feed him, express him, put him in the bathtub so he could drink from the faucet. He would go outside to our yard, or in colder weather we would put him up on the couch.
When the gardener's came with their blowers on Thursdays, he demonstrated just how fast a paraplegic kitty could run for shelter under the bed.
Occasionally he would get out the front door, and we would find that he had dragged himself all the way to the neighbors front yard, as if to prove he could still do it.
A few months ago, his lower half started to show signs of life. His legs twitched, his tail swished, and his bladder started to contract on its own will. Signs of hope.
One month ago, I was fired from my job as a television associate producer. I immediately got freelance work that took me away from Bitey and boyfriend for ten days, first to Portland, OR then to New York, NY. While I didn't relish all the time away from my cat, I knew it was important to make money. (Still had that bitey bill to consider). Yesterday, while sitting in my dad's apartment, doing expenses for the recently completed freelance gig, my boyfriend called...Bitey was hyperventilating, and they were en route to the vet.
Less than an hour later, Bitey was gone. I said goodbye via speakerphone...my boyfriend stroked Bitey's head as he died. Now I am in New York, my boyfriend is alone in an empty house, and Bitey is gone...where? I'm not sure, but I know he's leaping in the air to bat at the bugs, leaping up on the counter to get food, and rocketing through the neighborhood as fast as his four good legs can carry him.
For those of us left behind, we are in shock. I remember now that the doctors told us it would be sudden...but we were lulled into an optimistic complacency by that slow swishing tail. Having come to terms with Bitey's mortality a year ago, my sorrow is deep and exhausting, but peaceful--a sadness of sighs, not sobs. Although a part of me is missing, Bitey is whole again, and that's what really matters.
We will host a little memorial...we will give thanks and say goodbye.
